Smashed Steel: A Steamy Stand Alone Sports Romance (Steel Crew Book 7)

by Mj Fields

  After unboxing trophies that Dad and Mom brought over—an excuse for their actual reason to come over, which was to make sure I was okay—I head to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

  Rounding the corner, I spot three asses perched on the granite countertop of the island.

  Brisa, Tris, and … I know that ass, but the hair? Completely off.

  I blink a few times just to make sure I’m not dreaming during waking hours now.

  “So, what you do is throw the plate at the wall and—”

  “Nuh-uh, not in this house.”

  Her back straightens, and my heart does some crazy shit.

  “Nothing gets broken here.”

  Tris and Brisa slide off the counter. Then Brisa turns, smiling at me, and Tris whispers, “Good luck,” to Ellis and gives her a hug.

  Once they leave the room and I hear their footsteps fade to a safe distance, knowing the two of them aren’t standing right around the corner, listening, I walk around the island and lean against the counter opposite her.

  She looks up. “I’m a—”

  “Don’t apologize,” I cut her off.

  “I wasn’t going to,” falls quickly from her lips. Then she quickly slams them shut, along with her eyes, and screws up her face. “What I meant was”—she opens both—“I’m afraid to love you.”

  “Unnecessary fear, bu—”

  “No, see, you have to let me talk.” She wraps her arms around her body like she’s holding herself together, and it kills me not to be the one doing that.

  “I’ll listen to you talk forever, and I’ll do my best not to try to wreck each worry you throw at me.”

  “How can you say that? How can you say you love me when you really don’t know anything about me? About who I was? Who I have fought desperately to become, and who I want to be?”

  As tears build in her eyes, my chest tightens, and I fight the urge to sweep her off the counter and wipe them away. Instead, I stand, my hands fisted in the pockets of my sweats, leaning against the counter, and wait for her to continue.

  After a few seconds that feels more like entire innings, she shakes her head, sniffs, and shrugs. Then she continues, “I didn’t believe you. Then your sister FaceTimed me, all pissed at me for …” She stops and looks at me. “Did you just … growl?”

  My jaw is smashed closed so tightly that it hurts.

  “Of course you did.” She untucks her legs and hangs them over the counter. “You’re … you are intimidating.”

  You’re one to talk, Doc, I think.

  “You say things with such conviction, and you’re unafraid of jumping in with both feet, because you know …” She fists her hair, and then she growls. “This is going to sound wrong on so many levels, but you have a safety net, you have people, you have family. I have Georgie, and I have this baby.”

  And I have all three of you, and so do they.

  She lets go of her hair and looks up. “You growled again?”

  I pull my hands out of my pockets and raise them in the air, still saying nothing.

  “You’re infuriating and come off so damn cocky.”

  Not true. And also, it’s confidence. You’ll seem “cocky,” too, when I’m done with you, so call it whatever you want, Doc.

  “I know you’re not all talk. I see what you’re doing. I want to be a part of it. I swear I do.” She slides off the island, and I push off the counter, expecting her to walk toward me and … not start pacing like she is right now.

  “I didn’t trust you, and”—she turns to face me, her fists balled at her sides—“I still wasn’t sure until Tris, Brisa, and I were sneaking outside your office and overheard the conversation with that … that …” She growls again.

  It’s fucking adorable, and I don’t want to flip shit on my sisters for trifling, and that’s a first.

  “I want you to love me.”

  I already do.

  “And, Dear Lord, how I want to love you. I wanna love you so flippin’ bad.” She turns, looks up at me, and throws her hands in the air. “Do you have nothing to say?”

  Brow arched, I shrug.

  “What does this”—she mimics me—“mean?”

  “I put my balls in an imaginary jar for a bit. You tell me what you need it to mean, and we’ll go with that.”

  She grabs at the air and holds fuck-not in her hand. I laugh when she twists the imaginary lid off of it, sets the imaginary lid on the counter, steps toward me, grabs my wrist, turns my hand so it’s palm up, and empties my imaginary balls into my palm.

  I want nothing more than to grab her wrist, flip her hand over, and set my gonads in her palm and tell her to feel free to put them back for me, but I don’t.

  “What’s so funny?” she sighs.

  “Apparently, I laugh when I’m feeling intimidated.”

  She rocks back on the heels of her feet, looks down, and shakes her head. “Whatever.”

  “You have a degree that guarantees you a career for years to come. I could slip on ice tomorrow and mine could be done.”

  “Not true, because we would fix you up, and you’d be back on the field in no time.”

  I hide my smile and continue, “You’ve raised a good kid, and I have this insanely large safety net that I know I can fall back on. You’re stronger in mind than me and more independent than I am.”

  “Your family is a blessing.”

  “You’re smart and successful. You did that with nothing but what’s in your heart and inside that beautiful head. I did what I had to in high school so that, at the end of the day, I could hit the gym or the field.”

  “You’re incredibly talented, and your body”—she looks down and smiles—“is insanely hot.”

  “You see how this works?” I lift her chin. “We’re gonna get through everything life throws our way if we talk things through. You not being much for talking normally, I fill the dead air. You seem to trust my sisters; ask them how much of a talker I am. It’s not my norm. I’ll know better than that, too, from now on, yeah?”

  She pushes her cheek against my hand. “No way. I like your voice.”

  “I like your everything.”

  I cup the back of her head and pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her nice and tight.

  “Big hugs,” she whispers so I can barely hear her, but I do, and being that way, the way in which my imaginary nuts are now squished to the back of her silky, sexy, yet jacked-up hair, and my cock is insta-hard and squished against her belly, I wonder where Georgie is.

  She looks up as I slide my hands down her arms to rest them on her soft hips.

  “Where’s Georgie girl?”

  “Lily took her for the night”—she fists my t-shirt—“maybe two so I could lose my mind in private.”

  I’m not liking the fact that Georgie’s with the chick who sent my pregnant girl some bullshit picture while she was having a great time with Georgie, my family, and me, or that her bitch sister was the one in Florida who was cheating on her husband and sent the picture of me walking a girl out of a bar.

  She obviously senses it. “Lily’s not like Tonya.”

  “Yeah, well, Lily told you I fucked around on you while you were having a good time, which, if she knows you, she knows damn well you deserved that. And her telling you that caused you to take off in the middle of the night with Georgie and—”

  “She’s the only person who’s had my back for the past three years, and this is only the”—she pauses, closes her eyes, counts quietly, and then opens her blue eyes—“fifth time I’ve been away from Georgie, aside from when she spent the night with Luna and your family, her entire life.”

  “When we’re at away games, she’ll be cool with hanging with my family, though, yeah?”

  “The only reason I traveled to Florida was because—”

  “I insisted.”

  She shakes her head. “You can’t keep—”

  She stops when I grab her ass and lift her up, her hands on my shoulders, her
eyes wide. I lean in to kiss her, but instead, I kiss her cheek.

  “Please don’t tell me what I can’t do. Let’s just do what we can, yeah?”

  She nods as she licks her lips. “Yeah.”

  I set her ass on the counter then step back. “Let’s talk about our new place. Let me give you a tour, and then you and I are hitting that big old bed upstairs, fucking, showering, then online shopping a bit. Maybe fuck some more, sleep, get up to find someone to …” I rub my chin as I try to figure out how to nicely tell the woman I love that someone seriously fucked up her hair, or she lost her shit a bit and did a hack job. “Doc, we need to have your hair—”

  “Yeah, it’s called emotional shedd—”

  “Don’t care. Let’s get it fixed, yeah?”

  She nods.

  “Then we go grab Georgie, and—”

  “Bring her home.”

  Well, shit, I think as I smile big. “Yeah, that would be epic. I mean, as long as you’re talking bringing her here. Not trying to overstep, but—”

  “I’ll tell her the apartment burnt down.”

  “Let’s think of something less likely to cause nightmares.”

  She smiles back. “Okay.”

  “I wanna kiss you so fucking bad right now, but first—”

  “Then do it.”

  “Nuh-uh, It won’t end on the bed; it’ll end on the counter. And my sisters—”

  “Are meeting their husbands at my old place and packing up our things, which I told them was insane, but—”

  “Yeah, well, I know of their insanity right now.”

  Smiling at each other, I stretch my arms out. “Well, then, welcome home.”

  She looks around and inhales deeply. Then she slowly releases the breath. “I think Georgie and I are going to need a map.”

  “Let’s do this tour, and then I’ll draw one on your body … with my tongue.”

  With Both Feet

  Standing in front of him, with his arms wrapped around me, his energy and confidence blanket and smother the flames of my insecurities.

  “The kitchen.” He kisses the top of my head.

  “Insanely large and intim—”

  “We discussing the kitchen or my di—”

  I elbow him gently, careful not to hurt his ribs. “See? Cocky.”

  “Mmhmm.” He chuckles. “Now back to the kitchen.”

  I look back at him, wanting him to see I want him just the same.

  Eyes dark but smiling, he nods before us. “Kitchen, yeah?”

  “Right.” I turn back and take it in again.

  “Sweets, you’re looking around an awful lot for someone whose ass was just perched on the counter for a good half-hour before I even knew you were home.” I love the way he says home. “You hate it, we change it. Bought it on a short sale, so I underpaid by a ton. Paid cash with the money from the sale of my place in the city and negotiated a move-in date for, as I told them, yesterday. It’s not what you want, we put it on the market and find what—”

  “I didn’t look at it because I was afraid you’d changed your mind.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “You didn’t come back,” I whisper.

  “Sure as hell didn’t.” He chuckles.

  Ouch.

  “Headed to the hardware store to buy bolt cutters, intent on going back and cutting that chain separating us and making you listen to me. Then I figured that would flip you and Georgie out, so I bought a couple beds, ours and hers. You don’t like ours, we move it to another room and get what you want. You most definitely will like hers. Both of which we’ll get to after you take in our home and let me know what you think. What you think? What you want, matters. I. Am. In. Love. With. You. Let’s do this, yeah?”

  Damn, damn, damn, I wanna love you, too.

  Focus.

  “The flooring is beautiful. Hardwood?”

  “Yeah.”

  He turns us around slowly so I can take it all in.

  “I’ve dreamed a million times about Georgie and my future home, after college. I even made Pinterest boards of my dream home, but I never even thought to dream this big.”

  “Which part? The double crown molding? The gourmet kitchen?”

  “It’ll be perfect for when your family’s here. Plenty of room to cook for the entire crew, as you call it?”

  “I like the way you think. Now, let’s think bigger. Think of this island covered in flour and sugar, and sprinkles and shit to make Christmas cookies with Georgie’s friends. Friends who will always want to be here for sleepovers, as opposed to their houses, which will be perfect because then I don’t have to do full investigations on their families before we let her stay the night.”

  “Well, now I like the way you think.”

  And I do. I don’t just like it, I love that. My fear for years was that someone wouldn’t love her the way I do; therefore, before anyone remotely worthy of her was able to enter the picture, someone I knew I would never allow myself to love, I stepped back.

  I truly believe he loves her, and why wouldn’t he? She’s pretty amazing.

  When we were at the hotel, his father scooped her up and tossed her on his shoulders like she was already one of the family.

  “We can heat the pool.” He walks us over to what I assume is a breakfast nook and stands us in front of the double French doors leading out to a tiered patio that leads to the in-ground pool. “They can swim in the spring and well into the fall while I grill steaks and you take pictures and lounge around, looking all hot.”

  I look over my shoulder and give him a mock scowl. “You mean Georgie, this baby”—I lower his hand to the little bump, which makes his eyes literally brighten before me, further making my heart and … other parts warm, but this must be said—“and their friends? Because I am not having seven more kids.”

  He lifts his other hand, the one not splayed over my belly, and rubs a finger over my lower lip. “We’ll see.”

  My mouth falls open a bit, shocked at what I think he’s implying, and he nods.

  “Yeah, that’ll work, too, Ellis, but let’s finish this tour.” He steps back, takes my hand, and walks around in front of me. He’s hard, really, really hard.

  “We don’t have to right now. We can—”

  “Tour.”

  We make quick work walking through the two-story family room with a huge fireplace, pass by the office that I already saw. Next, he all but drags me to the basement, a basement that is fully finished with a small kitchen, bar, media room, game room, and down a short corridor where we pass by a sauna and into a full gym.

  He puts his hand over my belly this time on his own and smiles. “Less time at the stadium gym when our little slugger comes along, yeah?”

  Our little slugger.

  “Yeah.” I smile so big my face hurts, and my heart does a bit, too. It’s a sweet ache, the kind of ache caused by feeling something so good and realizing you’ve missed it your entire life.

  I’m gonna love him.

  After the basement, we head back up the stairs, his excitement contagious as he pulls me behind him to the left, the opposite side of the house where the home office is located.

  “This is technically the master, but I figured we’d want to be upstairs, closer to Georgie’s room, so a guest room until they’re teens and driving us crazy with music that we’ll think is to loud by then.”

  I laugh, and he grins.

  “We may like the music loud, though,” I say, pushing myself out of my comfort zone.

  “Yeah, well, the point is we’re gonna grow old as fuck together, Ellis, you and me and our nine—”

  He totally took that a different direction than I was going.

  “Oh no. Maybe three, including this one.”

  He rolls his eyes dramatically and smirks like he knows something I don’t … but I do, and it makes me smile even bigger. Then he winks—he freaking winks—and kisses the back of my hand that he’s holding. So incredibly hot.

&n
bsp; “We negotiating the size of our family right now or touring our home?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, he simply continues pulling me behind him through the massive empty room as he heads toward the patio doors.

  From behind, I look down at my feet while I follow him and admit, “I was trying to be flirty and insinuate that the music may drown out our sexy type noises, but I obviously—”

  My sentence ends when I crash into his back.

  “Shit, Sweets, are you okay?” His voice is full of concern, and then he chuckles as he quickly rights me.

  Face aflame, I look up and nod. “I’m good. Ignore the awkward attempt at—”

  “I love your sexy kind of noises, Ellis. I love the way you come. I love sliding into home and …” he growls. “Fuck it.”

  One hand on the back of my head, one hand on my hip, gripping it like he does, and two lips, two beautiful soft full lips, crash against mine all at the same time. He slides his hands behind me, one on each cheek, and squeezes hard as I skate my hands up his muscular forearms, his biceps, his insanely strong shoulders, and up his neck, dreaming about the day I can rub him down completely and take my time doing so, but today is not that day.

  The pull from deep inside of me toward this man, like an invisible string, is one I have no desire to snip.

  He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs tightly around his trim waist, pulling his head closer to mine, rubbing my tongue up and down his. His taste, delicious; his touch, electric; his hold on me, unfailing; and his conviction, addicting.

  When I’m sure I will pass out from lack of oxygen, he pulls back and in a near-silent whisper, one I don’t expect him to hear over our panting, I share, “I’m going to love you like you love me.”

  His eyes meet mine, and he runs one hand from my ass and up my back and begins to move.

  “Where are you—”

  “Taking you to bed.”

  “I love your house,” I say as I hold tightly to him.

  “Ours,” he corrects me, and I nod.

  “As much as your Pinterest house?” he asks as he begins to climb the stairs.

  “Much more.” I close my eyes and enjoy the friction of our bodies rubbing against one another’s. Then I rest my head on his shoulder and watch as his muscles pop from the exertion, kissing his neck over and over again.